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are discreet and out of tune with the typical smoker's husky voice hardened, but I do not care and I always sang passionately, at home, on the street, the beach, the solitary and among the people, in short, everywhere, especially the Italian repertoire of the 60 and 70 and unfortunately for the spectators I remember all the words by the Quartet Cetra upward through Nino Taranto, Carosone, Nilla Pizzi, Giacomo Rondinella, Sergio Brown, Fred Hammond and company. I'm not so old, but my grandmother took home the radio always on, then studied music at the throttle and the memory operates mysterious selections. What happens is that with the friends we have created a reading club, we meet one evening per month and debate a topic agreed upon earlier this year, through carefully selected bibliographies. On the agenda this year is the music, through literature and beyond. At the meeting last night was the microscope the book "Women's songs. Survey and mocking the forlorn woman in a century of Italian songs" Meri Lao. The author analyzes the female figure in the songs of yesterday and today has 772 songs classified by type and the result is a cross-section at the bottom is not surprising but certainly disconcerting. Basically, if we women, we are all angels or whores, with a wide range intermediate by her mother and the wife is up to the doll, the tuttasesso, exotic, infidel, all'angelsatanica. We are all responsible, we naively sang songs that have accompanied the years the seasons of our lives, and singing in the vortex has not been paying attention to the words, ideas that sowed terrible as ineradicable weed. Cha cha cha in famous secretary is important that both young and pretty, no need raccomandazion "(and then there indignamo of current times)," girls are dolls that cost, however, females are trinkets, toys, d ' amor "warbled Modugno in 1961 closely followed by Milva" Red is the rose, but who you marry if you are no longer white, "not to mention Malafemmena" But you need is an angel's face pe '' deceit. Female thou so worse na and viper. " Careful analysis of Lao, you do not save anybody, but nobody, involving all the sacred cows of our universe singing, you find that the untouchable with his lyricist Mogol Battisti were two men's first hour, which for the suspension "does not exist 's love is just a fable invented by you to make fun of me, that if "a man cheating, cheating in the middle" (If you leave me is not the case) and by force, we women would be "beautiful soul." In the decades unfortunately ideas put forward have not changed, warbling in the past it was a great use of metaphors and ethereal rose overtones, at most you dare, "she living in the fragrant, rich silk cushions, gives lip swollen to sin" (Toys and perfumes ), now the language has become more raw, more direct and the symbolism, if any, is creepy if Conjure in her music must "the lawn" inform "you shaved the bed, when you return to school ... no, I do not like when a hair falls, the sky falls. " Moral of the story, the world of the seven notes around a giant spinning inexorably Jolanda, Littizzetto docet, protean monster with a thousand aspects, and you can not even sing blithely in peace, I'll tell him to President Napolitano.